


heart of a dying rose

by CaptainJimothyCarter



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 40's au, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bittersweet Ending, Bittersweet Sex, Bittersweet story, Bottom Steve Rogers, Consensual Underage Sex, Emotional Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Pre-World War II, Pre-World War II Bucky, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sick Steve Rogers, Smut, Steve Rogers Feels, Stucky - Freeform, Teenage Bucky, Teenage Steve, Twink Bucky, Underage Sex, Worries of homophobia, dying steve rogers, loving boyfriend, poem summary, pre ww2, stevebucky - Freeform, trigger warning: dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23906680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainJimothyCarter/pseuds/CaptainJimothyCarter
Summary: If I should go before the rest of youBreak not a flower nor inscribe a stoneNor when I'm gone speak in a Sunday voiceBut be the usual selves that I have knownWeep if you mustParting is hellBut life goes onSo sing as well.[If I Should Go - Joyce Grenfell]Steve is dying. Plane and simple. There's no way they expect him to last till the end of summer, much less Christmas. Steve has one last request for his best friend and it's one that Bucky fulfills with a broken heart.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 26
Kudos: 81





	heart of a dying rose

Steve was dying.   
  
Not in the way that everyone dies in the end. No, Steve was actually dying. Actively dying. Each breath he took was a labor to his lungs that felt like he was breathing in the fumes of a tailpipe rather than the clean air that wafted through the open windows. Each breath he took caused him to cough harshly enough to burn his throat and make his eyes water. When it passed, he could barely catch another breath before the cycle started all over again.   
  
Steve Rogers was dying and shortly after his 16th birthday too. What a shitty way to go.   
  
Being beaten to death in some alley way by punks who didn’t know the meaning of ‘no’ would have been better than this. No less painful, but at least he would have gone down swinging.

  
The worst part was that Steve had no distraction either. He had no energy to pick up a pencil and try to sketch nor any energy to read. He barely could listen to the radio, finding himself nodding off three sentences into today’s news. The only relief he got was his mother or Bucky when they came by with food and water when their busy schedules allowed a moment.   
  
Sarah Rogers was not letting Steve go down without a fight. That’s why she was pulling double, if not triple shifts at the hospital in order to pay for the more expensive medicine that prolonged Steve’s life by a few days, if not a week at most. She would come home utterly exhausted with bags under her eyes, but always a smile on her face. Despite the exhaustion, she’d still find the energy to go to her son and help feed him some form of food before holding him until either both of them fell asleep or she did while Steve listened to her slumbering breaths, and watched the world pass him by outside his window.   
  
Bucky worked at the docks in between taking care of his sisters. He tried to stay as long as he possibly could with Steve, but Steve saw it. The pain that echoed in his eyes, the same pain that echoed in his mother’s eyes. Seafoam blue eyes watering because they both knew that within a matter of time Steve would no longer exist and this bed, this very room would just be a reminder that Steve was gone.    
  
He didn’t blame Bucky for not staying around nor his mother. The reminder was too painful for any of them to bear.   
  
Though, it seems as of late, it was either Sarah or Bucky that was sitting in the wooden chair beside his bed, holding his hand and talking to him any waking moment. More than usual, it was Sarah. She’d taken a few days off from the hospital to help take Steve to the doctor who told him something he knew already. He wasn’t getting any better. He was going to just get worse and he should have a will prepared just in case. He should think about what he wanted to do with his body. What would be easier for his mother. The man had just talked and Steve was numb to it all.   
  
Sarah did her best, making the hard decisions for her son, but the reality was that there were still decisions Steve needed to make. That he couldn’t bring himself to. He could try to ignore the reality that he was dying, but that wasn’t possible. There was no ignoring it, not when he would cough up a lung in the middle of the night and taste blood on the back of his throat.   
  
“Steve…” Sarah whispered, looking down at her son. The world was against her. Her eyes had sunken in with dark marks under them, her cheeks sallow and pale. Her blonde hair now a braided mess just to keep it out of her eyes. She squeezed her son’s hand and forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.    
  
“Ma, I-I’m fine.” Steve’s voice was soft, barely looking up at his mother. “I don’t want to talk about it. I know what Doctor Hendrick said. I-I...already have a will prepared. Just cremate me. What more is there to talk about?”    
  
Perhaps his words were a bit harsh, but really Steve was just tired of talking about dying. Tired of hearing it. If he was to die, let it be in peace. Let it be without seeing his best friend and his mother’s teary faces. Let it be in a manner they both could move on from.    
  
Rolling to his side, Steve looked up at his mother with soft eyes and squeezed her hand. Every movement felt like his muscles were being stabbed with hundreds of needles, filling him with white hot pain. “I’m sorry. I’m...just tired is all. The car ride took a lot out of me. It-it was nice for Mr. Kenny to give us a ride to the doctor. I...I love you. Do you think I-I could sleep until dinner?”   
  
Leaning over the bed, Sarah placed a tender kiss to Steve’s forehead and wrapped the covers around him, tucking them in around his frail body. He was down to 83 pounds now. Steve was losing weight rapidly, his clothes looked like baggy sacks on him. “Of course, darling. Just pull the string if you need me. I’ll just be in the other room. I love you, Steven. Remember that, please. You...don’t have to hold on for me. I’ll be okay.”   
  
Steve wasn’t sure if his ma even left the room. By the time she had finished her last sentence, his eyes were fluttering shut. The distant hope that they’d never open again passed over him.    
  
But they did open. Opening when he heard the door open, the hinges squeaking when it was pushed open. The floorboard squeaking under someone’s footing. Someone who was wearing worn out boots and baggy slacks, and a stained tank top. Steve blinked as he raised his eyes to take in his best friend, a shaken smile on his lips as he looked up at Bucky.    
  
The teenager had really been taken to his dock-life work. He had built up some muscle that was normally hidden by some coat or jacket but prominent in a tank or one of his button up shirts. Lately there was a shadow of stubble like Bucky was trying to grow out a beard or he simply forgot to shave. Steve’s eyes raked over those full lips that looked like they’d recently been kissed and knowing Bucky, he’d already kissed someone and there was a pang in Steve’s chest that had nothing to do with the sickness. Those gray blue eyes were already filled with tears and worry, brow pinching together as he lowered himself onto the edge of bed, a hand on the small of Steve’s back.   
  
“Hey, kid,” Bucky breathed, patting his back gently when Steve started to cough. “Your ma asked me if I could stay with you tonight. They needed her down at the hospital. Told her I didn’t mind. I needed a break from Becca and the kids anyway.”   
  
No, Steve knew that both of them worried tonight or any night coming up might be his last night soon with how hard it was to breathe for him and the fact Sarah found the bloody shirts he’d been trying to hide under his bed.    
  
“Yeah?” Steve whispered, rolling onto his back and opening the covers for Bucky. He watched the older teen kick his shoes off, throw the slacks on the floor and crawl right under the covers on the too small bed. He pressed their bodies together and kissed Steve’s temple. This close, Steve could smell the fish and sea salt clinging to his skin. He shouldn’t like that smell, but he does. His sense of smell is the only thing he could trust nowadays. “Sounds like old times. Ma is too worried about me.”   
  
“Want me to build that fort we’re always talking about? Throw the cushions on the floor. Could turn on the radio and hold you…” The brunette’s voice was going softer and softer, hiding his face into the soft locks on Steve’s head.    
  
Steve knew he was crying. He’d seen him cry too much these days. He can’t blame him, if the tables were turned. He would cry too if this was Bucky. Curse whatever God was out there for taking his best friend away from him. For not giving him a merciful death and instead of a slow paced one.   
  
“No, but...but there is something you could do for me.” It took all of Steve’s energy to sit up on trembling limbs. Trembling, frail limbs that looked too much like bones with skin tugged over them than the body of a healthy person. Warily, Steve looked out the window to see the dusk-filled sky and the empty streets. In reality, he was making sure no one was near their fire escape. The last he wanted to do was get Bucky in trouble.   
  
“Easy, easy, punk. Ya gonna get yourself hurt.” Helping the kid sit up, Bucky did too, frowning. “What is it? I’ll do anything. You know that. You want that pesto sub from the deli? Or-or I can ask Miss Lilith to make her meatballs or-or-”   
  
There it was. The rambling. The type of rambling Bucky did when he was nervous, trying to hide the fact he was scared and nervous. He pulled Bucky towards him by the front of his top, spotting a few new chest hairs littered across him. He pulled him close and kissed him. His plush lips laying on plusher ones and Bucky absolutely melting into it.    
  
The brunette didn’t even consider what the hell they were doing was illegal. In fact, he didn’t care. He didn’t give two shits if this was illegal or not. Steve Rogers was dying. Earth was losing one of the brightest, softest souls to ever exist. The world was going to become a little dimmer when Steve’s time was up. And Bucky was going to kiss his best friend if he wanted to.   
  
Pulling away, Steve’s face filled with such a fierce shade of pink that you could see the usually unseen freckles dashing across his cheeks. Sarah used to say they were like personal kisses from the sun. “I want you to have-have sex with me. You said anything, right? Have sex with me.”   
  
Bucky blinked.   
  
Once.   
  
Twice.   
  
Three times.    
  
Before it all hit him at once on what Steve was asking them to do. His mouth still hanging open and tingling from the kiss of an angel himself. He cleared his throat and ignored his own face flushing, looking towards the ajar door, back to the opened window that was letting in the only source of cool air.    
  
Steve was still staring at him, waiting for an answer too.    
  
“Okay,” Bucky sighed after a minute. Too long given the look on Steve’s face. Arguing against it in fear of hurting Steve wouldn’t do anyone any good, especially not Steve. And it’s not like he didn’t love his best friend and didn’t want to kiss him. He was just...terrified of overexerting him. But Steve was dying and Bucky wasn’t going to deny his friend what he wanted. “Okay, sure, buddy. C’mon. Let me close the window. Lay back down before you hurt yourself. I’ll be right back.”   
  
After the front door was locked, every light in the house shut off, the windows were locked, Bucky entered the bedroom with a glass of water and set it on the bedside table. He stripped fully, taking his time to hide his shaking hands. Steve admired him from his place on the bed, eyes moving over his best friend’s physique. There was dark hair that spattered over his torso, down his stomach and pooling over his cock. And boy, Bucky was a gifted man in the terms of endowment. The full seven inches and gentle curve to it was a sight to behold for Steve.    
  
Where Bucky was muscular and lean, Steve was the exact opposite. He was scrawnier than ever before with his bones protruding. His jaw and chin are sharper than usual and his face looked almost like a shallow skull, just holding baby blue eyes. It hurt Bucky to look at him and the fair body that held no trace of hair on him and remember how his best friend once looked when healthy. Steve wasn’t proud of his body, even before he got sick. His cock wasn’t spectacular like Bucky’s. It was smaller, closer to four inches with no amount of pubes to hide the length.   
  
Bucky called it cute and always told him he just hadn't hit puberty. He would one day and have a bigger cock than him. Well, now...now they’d never know.    
  
“You look... _ good _ ,” Steve whispered when Bucky hovered over him, his arms supporting him on either side of Steve’s body.    
  
Bucky chuckled against the teenager’s lips, pulling away to shake his head. “This is what chucking fish head and fish guts for thirteen hours a day gets you. Permanently smelling like fish.”    
  
Slowly, Bucky left a trail of kisses from the corner of Steve’s lips, to down his frail chest. He spent some time at his nipples. Taking one in between his lips and suckling, the other pinched between his pointer and thumb. He rubbed them together lightly and pulled, in the same manner he suckled and let his tongue trace around the taunt skin. Steve’s soft moans were music to his ears. Music from the heavens. It went straight through Bucky and settled at his cock, feeling the uncut length twitching between his legs.    
  
His trail continued down the teenager’s body, suckling a bruise on either side of his bony hips. He was careful not to hurt him too much, not wanting to do so much damage they had to go to the hospital. That would be awkward to explain, especially to Sarah Rogers.    
  
Bucky stopped right between Steve’s legs, looking up at the blonde with soft eyes. The blonde’s cock fully hard and leaking right in front of his head. “You sure, kiddo? I can stop anytime.”   
  
Steve was already red faced and panting, every single nerve that wasn’t burning on a regular basis was on fire. And for this time it was a good reason. He shook his head no, struggling to not let his heavy breathing send him into another coughing fit. “No, I-I like it. Go on.”   
  
A smile twitched on those full lips before they opened to take in the small member. It was hardly a mouthful, but rested comfortable just barely down his throat. He could suckle on him without gagging. The taste of bitter pre rested on the back of his tongue as he hallowed his cheeks and sucked on him. Slowly, Bucky started to bob his head, his hand coming up to gently rub at the blonde’s balls.   
  
Pulling off, just to have his head in the head in his mouth, Bucky’s tongue traced around his head, flicking over the small slit. Steve’s whimper and thrust of his hips told him he adored it. And Bucky adored the reaction. He did it again and again, just to watch it and hear Steve’s panting moans. Growing slowly louder just to be damned if anyone heard them. Let them try to stop him from pleasing his dying friend. He’d kill them.   
  
Taking Steve’s cock out of his mouth, Bucky spat on his palm, lifting Steve’s legs and opening them up to rub his palm between those skinny thighs. He watched his puckered hole flutter from the attention, looking up at Steve when he heard him take in a sharp gasp.   
  
“I don’t...have any Vaseline, so I’ll go slow, okay? Let me try to open you up. Hold still.”    
  
Bucky’s warnings were soft and gentle, wanting Steve to know he didn’t  _ have  _ to do this. Dipping between Steve’s thighs, Bucky’s tongue pressed against the ring of muscle. It was taut and tight, feeling it slowly give way when he slowly worked a spit-soaked finger into him. It tasted of sweat and something that just reminded him of Steve. This was Steve.   
  
Steve gasped at the feel of an invasion from both tongue and finger. It burned, because Bucky’s fingers were bigger than Steve’s, but there was pleasure in that burning sensation. He gripped at the sheets down below and closed his eyes. His thighs trembling from the pleasure. Each time his finger thrust in and out of him, his cock throbbed. He might cum before this was over. Or worse, have his heart give out.    
  
Slowly, Bucky worked in two fingers, soaking them in his own spit and coating the ring of muscle with it too. He wiggled them inside, watching Steve’s face carefully for any signs of distress and the second he had them settled into the second knuckle, he worked them open. He scissored them slowly to stretch him, watching it relax around his fingers. Each gasp and moan Steve uttered was nothing but a reward for Bucky. He loved the sounds the blonde could make and would want to hear them even on his dying days.    
  
The third finger was harder to work into, Steve letting out a sharp hiss when he felt it tug on his rim. Bucky had immediately stopped and the blonde was shaking his head. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he gasped, his hands bunched in the thin sheets, “Go on. I-I’ll be fine.”    
  
To distract himself, Steve was gripping his cock, stroking the small length in his fingertips. “Please,” he begged, and his eyes watered, “Bucky, I-I don’t want to die a virgin. Just...fuck me.”   
  
So  _ that’s  _ what this was about. While Steve did love him, he didn’t want to die a virgin. And Bucky, well he wouldn’t let him. If this is what his best friend wanted, this is what he would get. Even if it would kill him.    
  
God, he hoped not in a literal sense.    
  
Ever so slowly, Bucky pulled his fingers free of Steve’s rim, watching it gape and slowly close. He used his own spit again to coat his cock, taking in a deep breath as he lined himself up with Steve’s tight entrance. He couldn’t help himself in smacking his cock against it, rubbing his length between those soft cheeks. He glanced up to Steve, who met his eyes, his face a bright red and the blond looked away.   
  
He held that gaze as he slowly pushed in and immediately gasped. Steve was white hot and tight. Squeezing around him like Bucky had squeezed his cock when he was jerking off in the shower. He couldn’t think with how tight the teenager was wrapping around him.    
  
And Steve? Steve was gasping up a storm, hips raised ever so slightly. It was enough for a pillow to be slid under him so the position was a little easier for his crooked spine. There was that burning sensation again. Burning him up from the inside out like an insane fever again, but this time it was real and this time, Steve was in control.   
  
“I gotchu,” Bucky promised, slowly pushing in a few inches and stopping so Steve could adjust. “I ain’t gonna let you fall. Ain’t gonna let you get hurt. I love you, punk. I love you so, so much.”   
  
Bucky was crying by the time he bottomed out and held himself up over Steve. He carefully pulled himself out, just to the very tip of his head was inside the tight ass before pushing back in. His cock pushing open velvet walls that squeezed around him so prettily and tight. He never wanted this to stop. Never wanted to let go. If he kept fucking Steve, then Steve would stay alive.    
  
Steve was crying too, for many reasons. For one, it hurt. The burning pain was more than he could handle, but what hurt worse was the emotional pain. To know that this could be their final time together and it would be the only time they’ve kissed or had sex. Because he was too afraid to tell Bucky on his thirteenth birthday that he loved him.    
  
Bucky’s arms wrapped around Steve’s torso as he set a gentle and slow pace. His thrusting grew easier with each and every one, a hand cradling the back of Steve’s head. He kissed the man with a soft hunger that grew into passion, just as his thrusts did. Slowly, they grew harder and harder. The bed was already weak, already hitting the wall. Both no longer caring who heard them.   
  
They weren’t sure where one began and the other ended.   
  
Steve was the loudest of the two. Every thrust drawing some new noise out of him that Bucky was drinking down in his kisses. Tongues shoved down each other’s throats. A hand reached between them to jerk Steve off in time with his thrusts.    
  
The sound of skin-hitting skin melting into the moans that sung around them.    
  
They both were still crying, sobs in between kisses and thrusts. And Steve sobbed the most when he came, his nails digging harshly into Bucky’s shoulder blades. His back arched and his head was thrown back onto the pillow and he cried out despite his aching throat as he came harder than he ever had. White ropes splashed between them, warm and sticky, smearing against their bellies as Bucky inhaled like he was the one dying, letting it go on a groan when Steve tightened around him.   
  
His orgasm was building. He could feel his balls tightening, that familiar warm, heavy pit in his stomach. He didn’t want it to blossom, not yet. He didn’t want to fill his best friend, his soulmate with his cum. Not yet. He wanted this moment to last forever. But as all good things had, they had to come to an end.   
  
And so did this.   
  
Bucky let out a guttural sound, head thrown back and pounding hard into Steve as he fucked him through his own orgasm. His cock twitching and throbbing inside of the man, a bulge in his scrawny belly from both cock and cum alone.    
  
As he came down from the high of the orgasm, panting and groaning softly, he saw Steve’s face. A satisfied, sleepy smile on that face. Bucky kissed that smile as he slowly pulled his softening cock out of him, watching his seed spill into the sheets.   
  
Steve wore the same smile on his face, an hour later after Bucky had cleaned them both up and changed the sheets. It was the same smile he wore when he told Bucky he loved him and he would always love him, and he would want him to find happiness in life.   
  
“There is no happiness without you, angel. You’re my shining star. I ain’t gonna be happy when you leave me,” Bucky whispered against his temple, pressing his lips against flushed skin. The window was back open, letting in the cool, Brooklyn night air. “But I’ll try for you. I’ll take care of your ma, I promise, but I-I believe she’ll be taking care of me, honestly.”   
  
That same smile was on Steve’s face when Bucky woke the next morning and the smile was still there when Bucky tried to say good morning through a closing throat when he realized he couldn’t hear the rasping breath he’d grown so accustomed to. The smile was still there when Sarah came home and found Bucky openly sobbing against Steve’s still chest, clutching him and begging for God to bring his best friend back.    
  
And that smile was still there when Bucky promised Steve he would live the best life he could so he could be proud of the things he had done when he saw Steve again.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, I hate myself for even coming up with this idea. 
> 
> If it hurts to read, imagine how bad it hurt to write.
> 
> Thank you though, I appreciate every kudo, comment, and view.


End file.
